Dim City
by Nicoccia
Summary: Luka Katsumi had planned on living a simple life. But developing an infatuation with Katsuki Bakugo pretty much obliterated that idea. AU, OC. "To be human means to long for things above you. On the other hand, you could say gazing upwards literally means you don't really see things below…"
1. Prelude: Peace Sign

**_"I'll Steal a Future With You"_**

* * *

_Truth be told, Katsuki was an exhausting person._

_Normally the phrase would be better suited for Mineta, because of his shameless perversion; Uraraka or Midoriya, with their persistant humility and faltering confidence; or even someone like Todoroki, since the guy was so hard to get a reaction from on an everyday level._

_But no. Katsuki was exhausting for all of the opposite reasons._

_Katsuki wasn't forthcoming with his feelings at all - the softer ones, anyway. Sometimes I really though the two of us were something, like there was an unspoken static between us that electrified and magnetized our true, inner selves._

_(In the least cheesy, fairytale way possible. This definitely isn't _that_ kind of story.)_

_Yet half the time it was as if I barely existed in his world. As if I wasn't actually all that important and I didn't really matter in his master plan. To use his words, I regularly felt like just another "extra" faded into the background._

_Because Katsuki wasn't like Uraraka, or Midoriya, or Todoroki. Nothing about him was hesitant, or humble, or meak. He wasn't hardened like ice either. Katsuki had passion that undoubtedly _exploded_ from his every pore, triggered by some of the most mundane things. Katsuki wasn't a man who lacked fire, or a voice, or conviction._

_Maybe Katsuki wasn't such an exhausting person to most people, once they got used to him. Maybe it was just me._

_Maybe it was just exhausting to love a guy like Katsuki and never get that whole-hearted, unconditional, fly-me-to-the-moon confirmation that he felt the same way._

_It was exhausting for me to realize that I was forcing my way into his life. Forcing my feelings on him. He wasn't inviting me in._

_Really, we couldn't belong together. It was too much of a battle every step of the way._

_My story of "us" was more of a selfish, villainous plot on my part._

_It wasn't the kind of love I'd always dreamed of. But it was the only love I wanted, since it was with him._


	2. Chapter One

Let's face it: we all want to be heroes.

Even before there were Quirks everyone wanted to make something of themselves, to make a difference. But mostly, I think, we all still want to be more than anyone else in some way. To be _extraordinary_.

After all, to earn the title of a hero you needed so many other people to be awed by your individuality, right?

And to stand out, you had to be that much more extra than anyone else... which was pretty tough to do when the majority of the population was already some form of _extra_.

That's exactly why I decided pretty early on that Heroism, as a profession, wasn't the path for me.

When I was a kid, of course I dreamed of making it into the Top Ten rankings. Of course I wanted to be famous, to be recognized. But as I got older, I realized that's all it was.

Heroes made a difference. They protected the public, for sure. But as Quirks skyrocketed in commonality, so did the cheapening of the Hero. It wasn't just that a few amazing people stepped up and self-sacrificed for the greater good anymore. Not-so-slowly but surely, Heroes became as recurrent as nurses, as teachers, as retail workers. They all did their part for society, but a job was still a job. There were always down sides. Humiliating aspects, per say.

Once I got old enough to realize it, I saw Heroes doing less selfless deeds and more performances for their sponsors. It was a little pathetic.

I guess I resolved to do something less demanding when I grew up. Even if I did end up using my Quirk to get paid, why couldn't I be something average? I'd always liked animals, so maybe I could become a vet, or start some sort of rescue. A Pet Hero? No, that was a gimmick. Most Heroes were too gimmicky.

That was the problem.

By the time I reached double digits, I'd wanted to down-play my Quirk more than showcase it. What was the point? If I didn't want to be a Hero, I didn't need to show off.

One of the first times I remembered using my Quirk involved Bakugo, actually.

We were little kids then, somewhere around five years old. Most of my class had their Quirks already, and almost everyone displayed theirs as often as possible.

Obviously, Bakugo's Quirk was flashy in every sense of the word. I hadn't really noticed him much before he started getting attention for his ability – or at least didn't remember anything in particular about him outside of that. I only started to know him as that boy who made little fireworks in his hands, and then soon after as the mean boy who bullied everyone.

Bakugo had been terrorizing some kid, for some reason, on the day my Quirk manifested. We were out on the playground during recess, and the teachers must not have noticed the situation. Or maybe they did see it and just thought it was natural for the kid who could make sparks to be flexing his status against someone a little weaker.

Either way, I noticed.

I don't think Bakugo had done anything more than shove the other kid, physically. No, Bakugo always had a way with words. He didn't need to beat anyone up when he could tear their very will to live to shreds with a single, ill-willed sentence.

The kid Bakugo'd targeted had retreated under a tree in the corner of the playground, pretty far from all the slides and swing sets. Bakugo must have gotten bored and figured he's made his point, because he and his lackeys moved on and left the other boy there to wallow alone.

I don't even remember that kid's name now, or know what happened to him after that day. But I do know that I wandered over, and that kid was crying under the tree, shaking and looking so pathetic and shriveled up and just _drained_.

So I walked up and put my hand on his shoulder. Call it instinct.

I didn't really know what I was doing. I wasn't in control of what happened after I touched that kid, but my fingertips – the parts of my skin that were touching his skin from around his tank top straps – started glowing gold.

I don't think either one of us got the chance to react, other than to gape. The moment only lasted that, a moment, before the light flickered out. My hand was frozen there for another few seconds before I pulled away, a little delayed, and shook myself out of it.

"Are you okay?" I'd asked the kid, as casually as I could.

He'd taken a few seconds to gather himself, blinking out of surprise and then reaching up to rub his eyes when some new tears slipped out.

"I-I'm fine," he'd told me. He sucked in a huge breath of air and snot from his nose. "What did... you do to me?"

I'd frowned. "I don't know. It didn't hurt, did it?"

"No. It was kinda warm."

We basically left it at that. The kid had said he was fine, so I stood back up and told him that recess would be over soon, and we should get ready to go back inside. I only remember my head being a little fuzzy, and the rest of the day passing by in a blur.

I wasn't stupid. I knew glowing hands weren't natural, and my first thought was that it must have had something to do with my Quirk. I just didn't know what it meant, or what it'd done to that other kid. So I was confused, and a little scared, and I didn't want to tell anyone about it right away.

Unfortunately for me, that kid went and blabbed to just about the whole population.

By the next day's morning recess, a bunch of classmates I'd never even spoken to before were buzzing around me, saying so-and-so had said something about me using my "magic healing power" on him.

Everyone congratulated me.

They told me I was going to be the next Recovery Girl.

One girl asked if I could try to heal the bite her hamster had given her.

And I was just completely mortified because _I didn't even know what my Quirk was yet_.

I'd stepped back from the crowd as much as I could, biting my lip but trying to smile at the same time. I'd looked around for some help, or a distraction.

The distraction was what seemed like the only person who wasn't so excited about someone else becoming an up-and-coming Hero prospect.

It was a pair of red eyes that – whether by accident or with intent – met mine from a distance.

* * *

The school had ended up calling my mom. My mom ended up calling a specialist. They had people who specifically worked with young kids to help them explore their Quirks safely.

It turns out I wasn't a healer, per say. My quirk had to do with energy.

In the most basic sense, I could transmit energy out of my body.

It was ironic, really. I could give my potential to _other_ people.

The Quirk Counselor had been interested in my power. He had rattled on about all the ways we could try to strengthen and expand my capability to use energies. There had been a lot of scientific talk about different types of reactions and laws of physics and whatnot, but it had all been way over my head. A lot of it stayed over my head even as I got older and just didn't care.

Back then, I only knew that it boiled down to the fact that my Quirk was _cool_. There were so many ways I could learn to manipulate my abilities, and it was possible that I could accomplish some amazing things. If I worked hard enough, there could have been a plethora of opportunities ahead of me.

Somehow more word on my Quirk got around school. More kids started wanting to talk to me about it.

It was a lot to process for Little Kid Me. Especially when Little Kid Me hated attention more than the adult me did. There was a decent sized corner of my ego that did want to bask in my luck of the draw, but only when I was alone and daydreaming.

In reality, being fawned over was stressful and unpleasant. So sometimes when I was being accosted in school, or when the Quirk Counselor was getting particularly enthusiastic during one of our meetings, I'd wanted to deny the fact that I had such a cool Quirk all together.

By an act of sheer fate, Bakugo was the one responsible for discovering another layer of my powers. Some weeks after my Quirk first popped up, he felt some need to focus his aggression on me.

"Hey, Red Riding Hood."

I wasn't incredibly social or popular or anything, but I'd always thought I was well liked enough. Bakugo had ignored me for as long as we'd been in school together, which was as good as anything.

"Oi, _Little Red_."

Somehow I knew he was calling out to me. My body had bristled.

We'd been leaving for the day, and I'd slowed down on my way outside to catch my bus when I heard him. I didn't turn around. I was afraid. But he must have known I was listening.

"Don't start thinking you're special or anything, just because you've got some Quirk these nobodies keep talking about. They're all worthless, like you."

I didn't say anything. I just stood there, with my back to him.

Why did he single me out? Why did my Quirk mean anything to him?

"What, do you already think you're too good to turn around and face me?"

Again, I couldn't respond. Each thing he said just sent another shiver through me. I'd seen how Bakugo treated other people, and that he got away with almost anything. It was surreal. I _knew_ what bad news he was. I'd just never thought I would be the one in his line of terror.

"You arrogant... You w_itch_. Look at me!"

I gasped. Once, because of what Bakugo had called me. Then a second time, because his hand had slapped onto my wrist and tightened like a hawk's talons.

I whipped around and finally gaped at him.

Bakugo had been a really cute kid. But in that moment, with his crimson eyes drilling into me like I'd just fried his pet goldfish, and his baby-faced cheeks rounded as his lips curled into a wolfish snarl...

He was every bit as frightening as a five-year-old could be.

He was so close, and so furious. I couldn't wrap my head around it. I didn't know how to handle it. What was I supposed to do?

I was stunned by his proximity, his intensity. I'd struggled to swallow. My eyes flickered down to his fingers around my arm, and then up to some point just inside the bridge of his nose.

"Let go," I'd said, surprising myself with how steady I'd sounded, even if somewhat soft. My own voice gave me some courage and I met his gaze, albeit quivering. "You can't just yell names at people or grab them when they didn't do anything—"

I'd started tugging at my arm, but Bakugo clamped down harder. I'd pulled with more force in return and ended up stumbling back. As I scrambled, Bakugo came forward. In the heat of the moment I'd flung my opposite hand out to hold him off.

Except I never actually touched Bakugo. The was a flash of gold, just enough light to blind me for a split second, before Bakugo dropped me and I had to find my balance all over again.

Things didn't take long to settle. I'd caught a couple of breaths, glanced up at Bakugo, and then blanched.

He was holding his shirt around his left shoulder. It was smoking.

Bakugo caught my eye again, and I could bet he was wearing the same expression that I was. He wasn't angry anymore, in that single second.

We were both in shock.

* * *

"_Sweetie, we just want you to know that it's okay to choose to be whatever you want to be. You don't have to feel pressured to push yourself too much just to fit in with the other kids_."

My parents weren't the absent types. I wouldn't call them particularly doting but they also weren't neglectful. They both worked hard to support themselves and their kids. They were regular people, with Quirks. Not Heroes. So it never really seemed strange to me to live a regular life while having a Quirk.

I did want to help people. But I'd hurt Bakugo, and even if it was an accident I'd felt awful about it and moped all day afterwards.

My parents had seemed to catch on to what was going through my head that night.

"_We know your classmates are all excited about their Quirks now, but the reality is most people don't grow up to be Pro Heroes. And that's just fine. If we were all Heroes, how would anything else get done? The world needs people to _**not**_ be Heroes. We couldn't function otherwise. Do you understand that_?"

I knew I needed to keep training to learn to control my Quirk. But did that have to come with so much expectation or responsibility?

"_You're special, Luka, and you'll always be special in your own way. You'll leave your mark differently than anyone else, no matter what. You don't need to be a Hero to make a difference_."

That had sounded all right with Little Kid Me. I could be like my parents. Like my whole family. I could use my Quirk however I wanted to. There would still be no one else like me, and I could still be great.

Little Kid Me had felt comforted by that conversation. It made me feel better about my Quirk, and the attention from the kids at school, and everything. It made me breathe easier.

It still made me breathe easier, at 15-years-old.

Because I didn't _have_ to be a Hero.

I only had to be **me**.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Have mercy. I'm not sure exactly what I'm doing with this story yet. Honestly I had all kinds of ideas for an _ADULT!_ Bakugo/OC and I'm just making up their origins as I go. I don't imagine I'll go much more than a handful of chapters before time-skipping ahead. **

**(Unpopular opinion: I have a real love/hate relationship with Bakugo. And MHA in general. But maybe that's what fueled this?)**

**As always, I don't want to make it a habit of adding Author's Notes. I find them to take away from the narrative. Just know that I would LOVE hearing from anyone, so you can always reach out! Be it with questions, corrections, support, etc.**

**Cheers~**


	3. Chapter Two

"So as third year students, it's time to start thinking seriously about what you want to do with your lives. I could start passing out some career aptitude tests but… why bother? I know you all want to go to the Hero track!"

The class erupted in cheers. Sensei threw the career packets across the room like they were meaningless. To 99% of the class, I guess they were.

'_But I'm on clean-up duty today_,' I thought to myself, deflating. '_Of course Sensei doesn't care when he's not the one picking up all those papers._'

"Hey, Teach, don't lob me in with this bunch of losers. I'm the _real deal_."

Even if I hadn't known the voice, the words themselves made the speaker obvious.

Bakugo was balancing on the back two legs of his chair, arms crossed behind his head and feet leveraging on top of his desk. A mocking, egoistic grin filled his face. "…But the rest of these guys will be lucky to end up as side-kicks to some busted D-lister."

The class erupted again, this time in protest to Bakugo's declaration. The blonde only laughed and egged them on more.

"Huh, you've got impressive test scores," Sensei relayed, blind to the rowdiness of his students. "Maybe you will get into U.A. High."

There was more chattering, ranging from awe to disbelief. Bakugo, of course, assured over it all the he was the best, the _only _of us capable of getting into the nation's top Hero school.

"I'll end up more popular than All Might himself, and be the richest Hero of all time!"

It was that line that made me frown. Popularity? Money? Is that why he wanted to be a Hero?

Was even Bakugo that shallow?

"Oh yeah, Midoriya," Sensei went on, not acknowledging Bakugo at all. "…you want to go to U.A. High too, don't you?"

The mood in the room dropped palpably. Up until everyone started laughing, anyway.

I slumped down in my seat, trying to stay out of the whole thing. Nothing about it was fair. It wasn't fair that Bakugo got to jump on his desk and degrade everyone without our teacher reprimanding him. And it wasn't fair that Midoriya had to cower on the floor while he tried to defend his dream.

Nothing about this world was fair. Heroism caused as much trouble and good sometimes.

Class let out soon after, and I left the room to gather the cleaning supplies I needed. Bakugo was supposed to be my partner but he'd never once shown up for his half of the duty. It wasn't that big of a deal for me to work alone, but it hurt a little that Bakugo thought he was too big of a deal to help out.

By the time I made it back to class (broom, mop, bucket, hot water, rags, and all disinfectants in tow) Bakugo and his goons were heading down the hallway. If I were braver, I would have called after him.

If I were heading for the path of justice, I would have said something.

But I wasn't, so I didn't. I only pouted at him silently and trudged on into the classroom, where only a distraught Midoriya was left.

Midoriya was a constant target of Bakugo's, so it wasn't hard to figure out that I must have missed some altercation between them. At least it obviously hadn't been a physical one. Midoriya was a sweet kid and I honestly felt terrible for him, considering he was both Quirkless and all-around frail: in other words, he was a sitting duck.

I wasn't sure whether I should say something to him or leave him be, so I took careful steps to the front of the room, keeping my eyes down. First things first: pick up all the career aptitude tests.

I knelt down and more or less crawled across the floor, snatching up each packet as I came in contact with it. At some point I noticed Midoriya's footfalls before he crouched down, too, and mimicked my actions.

When we finished we both held a small stack, standing to face each other awkwardly. Midoriya placed his papers on the closest desk and gave me a tight smile.

"Sorry, I'll get out of your way," Midoriya said, pulling his backpack up onto his shoulder. He seemed to have a second thought and turned to me again. "Are you staying late alone, Katsumi?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Midoriya cut me off with some kind of panic attack.

"I didn't mean to address you so familiarly! Katsumi-chan, I mean! **No**! Katsumi-_san_!"

Midoriya was sweating bullets, as flushed as a public toilet during festival season. It was a tension breaker for sure though, and I had to suppress a laugh.

"We've been classmates since grade school," I reminded him, doing my best to hide my smirk with a smile. "You can just call me 'Luka' if you want. I won't be offended."

My offer only seemed to stress Midoriya out more. It didn't seem like he had many friends, as congenial as his personality was. Apparently he had a more formal approach to addressing people.

"Or 'Katsumi' is fine," I corrected, switching to my surname. Midoriya gradually gathered himself, his normal color returning as he nodded decidedly. "And to answer your other question," I went on, "Bakugo is supposed to be my partner for cleaning duty. He's just never stayed after to help before."

I wouldn't have thought the news would be particularly jarring (just because it was _Bakugo_ we were talking about) but Midoriya's reaction was more than I would have expected. He clenched both his eyes and fists, tilting his chin away from me for a moment, as if to mask his response.

Not sure what to do with myself, I shuffled my stack of packets and edged towards my cleaning cart.

"I'm not busy," Midoriya said. I wasn't sure if he noticed my retreat or not, since he never looked my way, but his tone was suddenly so strong. "I'll stay and fill in so that this isn't all on your shoulders."

I stilled and couldn't help but smile, truly. "You've already helped me, Midoriya. Besides, I'm used to it. I have a routine. You don't need to worry about me."

As cathartic as cleaning could be, I doubted Midoriya really wanted to hang out after hours when it wasn't his turn. But I did have a sudden thought, so I stepped forward again and held one of the packets I was holding out to him.

"It's just a shame that Sensei threw all of these career tests around," I said. "I was really looking forward to filling one out and getting a few ideas. You should take one too, Midoriya."

Nothing about Midoriya's expression changed, yet at the same time everything about it did. The air around us was almost thicker, weighing down the mood entirely. The skin on the back of my neck tingled, and I couldn't help but feel like I'd spoken some kind of taboo.

Midoriya reached out a hand, his whole arm quivering. He grasped the pamphlet like it was his death certificate.

"T-thanks, Katsumi," he said. Both his tone and eyes were a mile away, a haunted, taunt smile on his face as he made for the door. "See you tomorrow."

I watched him go, guilt piling up in my gut.

It wasn't unknown that Midoriya was a huge All Might fanboy. It wasn't a secret that he was always following news stories, scribbling down notes, and preaching his ambitions of becoming a Hero. So I knew I must have upset him by suggesting that he consider other options.

I hadn't meant to belittle him. I was just being realistic. Hopefully Midoriya didn't take it the wrong way. I did want the best for him.

The best thing for him was probably to give up on the fantasy of becoming a Hero.

I really didn't understand why that was so hard for most people to grasp.

* * *

I only had cleaning duties once a month. The day that I'd met Midoriya after class had happened to be the day I'd shown up late for archery practice as a result. I was on the school team and one of the best scoring members (_not to brag)_. Still, I'd been scolded by the captain and had to pull extra duties there, too, despite the excusable absence.

I'd been a little frustrated by it until I'd heard how Bakugo and Midoriya's night had ended.

I didn't know how to approach either one of them. Well, I knew that approaching Bakugo wasn't an option at all, so the better question was how to, and if to, address Midoriya.

It shouldn't have been so hard. We'd been classmates for so long that just saying "I'm glad you're okay" shouldn't have been such a problem. It was only because of what I'd said to him right before he'd faced off with that villain, really.

I'd wondered if it was my fault in some way. If Midoriya hadn't had stayed after to help me, and I hadn't basically told him to give up on his dream, maybe he wouldn't have felt so fueled to jump in and help Bakugo even when he was so glaringly out matched.

Then again, maybe he would have. Maybe Midoriya was just that kind of guy.

Regardless, All Might had been a true hero that day. If the Number One hadn't shown up, my regret probably would have been grotesque.

It could have just been my imagination, but Bakugo had seemed to calm down since the incident, too. He was less prone to outbursts, at least, and there was the matter of him showing up for our next afterschool cleaning duty.

By "showing up" I mean that he'd stayed in his seat on our designated day, lounging back as usual with his feet up on his desk. Originally I'd left him alone, thinking that he had his own agenda, until Bakugo reached out on his own accord.

"Hey, Scarlet Witch," he called out to me as I swept. "'Seems like you know your place. Don't think I'm the type to play chivalrous to the likes of you. I'll hang around but I'm not some support character here to pick up after all you scum classmates."

I stalled in my sweeping automatically. There were a few things running across my mind in that moment. Other than the obvious misogynist tilt to his words, the parts about "playing chivalrous" and "pick up after _all you_ scum classmates" stirred something inside of me.

Did he really think so little of _everyone_ around him?

I didn't initially respond to Bakugo, but I did stop what I was doing and glance up at him.

Bakugo was remarkably at ease. His body was lounged back in his chair, his arms crossed behind his head. Eyes closed.

If the situation were different, someone could have easily caught him off guard and punched him in the gut.

But I brushed the thought away as soon as I'd thought it, merely watching Bakugo again. He realized that I wasn't moving anymore and opened his eyes.

Bakugo scoffed. "Shouldn't you get a move on, Witch? This place ain't gonna clean itself."

I couldn't stop my brow from furrowing. I'd never minded cleaning the classroom alone until that point, so who was Bakugo to show up so randomly and try to direct me? He wasn't helping at all. It had been better without him.

Somehow it seemed like Bakugo realized the emotions behind my expression. He lurched forward suddenly, the front legs of his chair slamming to the floor, and gripped the corners of his desk. His features were twisted in rage.

"You _bitch_," he ground out. I jolted at the use of the vulgarity. "Who the hell do you think you are to give me that flat look? Do you really expect someone like me to act along like one of you nobodies? There's a million more important things I could be doing, so hurry the hell up and finish this servant's work so I can get on with my life."

I was stunned. I'd never been a direct target of Bakugo's temper – at least, not since way back in elementary. I couldn't piece a solid thought together.

Bakugo sneered at my frozen state. "Just like I said: you're _worthless_. Who gives a hoot what your Quirk is if you'll always be too much of a shirker to stand up to anyone? You're actually worse than all the other wannabes. At least they have some kind of _pathetic_ ambition."

I was still just standing there, unresponsive and stiff. Bakugo growled one last time before leaping up. He slung his bag over his shoulder and gave his desk a hard mule kick as he made for the door.

"I'm not wasting any more of my time here," he declared. "Freakin' _Deku_ had to go mentioning it, but this was as useless as I knew it'd be. I'm no _extra_."

It took me a few seconds to start putting things back together once Bakugo had left. At first I only took in the scene in front of me: an empty classroom with bits of rubbish scattered around. Bakugo's desk had crashed into the one next to it, knocking them both over. It was hardly a war zone, but there was still a faint ringing in my ears.

Once my senses came back, I could only blink before letting out a sputter.

Bakugo was wrong. He was honestly the single _most_ "extra" person I had ever met.

* * *

I didn't have archery practice after class that day. I went home after cleaning, popped my head into the living room to greet my mom (who was blaring some afternoon talk show) and went up to my room to get a head start on homework. It was a simple night, the kind that I liked.

But once I had retreated to my bedroom it was hard to concentrate. In my distracted state, I thought about Bakugo.

Despite growing up together, that day had probably been the most we'd ever spoken in one session – and I hadn't even said a single word. It wasn't surprising that it was a negative interaction either; I knew him well enough to not expect anything better.

Maybe the only reason I thought about Bakugo at all was because I'd never thought about Bakugo before. He'd always been the rude boy, the bully. Bakugo was, to me, the type of guy you sort of wrote off just because his personality was so bad.

But now I wondered about him.

Why was he so unpleasant? Did he have a bad home life? Some kind of tragic upbringing? Maybe he just didn't know how to handle emotions or interact with people, so all of his aggression was like some form of social awkwardness. It was a little sad, if any of that were true.

I wondered about Bakugo. And I thought about what he'd said to me. His words didn't change the fact that I undoubtedly didn't want to be a Hero, but he did have a point. I could have been too complacent. I still had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, after all. How long was I supposed to wait to decide? Shouldn't I have had some epiphany by that point, or even a vague goal in mind to pursue?

Rather than sulk in my own faults, I refocused on Bakugo. Bakugo, who was so unapproachable. Bakugo, who pushed everyone away. Bakugo, whose blatant superiority complex could have actually been more complicated.

It was sort of an elementary observation. Narcissism by definition centered around a lack of empathy and excessive self-inflation. I was no doctor, but I did know that Bakugo wasn't a well-adjusted teenager by any means. Regardless of any diagnosis, his instability was obvious. Why didn't anyone else seem too concerned about it? He probably needed professional help.

No one understood him, maybe. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to, someone he could always trust to be there. Someone who could take all of his outbursts in stride and still stay steadfast by his side.

He needed someone to smile and tell him that it would all be okay.

Because, if nothing else, Bakugo was strong. His Quirk was top-tier, his smarts were above average, and he didn't slack off in anything that he did. He was really kind of inspirational. He could absolutely become someone great, with some more refining.

Looking back, it was foolish. That night was when I decided, in my romanticized teenage glory, that I could try to be something to Bakugo.

When I was fifteen, Bakugo became a precious person to me – on nothing more than a random whim.

I vowed that I wouldn't give up on him. I would be _his_ support character, for as long as it took to make him shine.

Like I said, **it was stupid**.


	4. Chapter Three

Flight Attendant.

That was the top result of my career aptitude test.

I was almost insulted when it first popped up, but the more I got to thinking the more it did make sense.

'_Calm under pressure… dedication to serving the public… observant and aware… conflict arbitrator…'_

The further I read into my personality results, the more it seemed like the test could have been describing anything. Even a Hero.

Or a barista.

Overall, I considered it an hour wasted by the time I pulled back from my desk and turned off my PC. Oh well though, it was at least worth the try.

"Nee-chan?"

My bedroom door was open – per my parent's orders when we made the deal that I could have my own computer – and my little brother had wedged himself in the crack, as if he didn't want jar the door open any more than it already was.

I smirked and leaned back in my chair. "Yeah?"

Keisuke wiggled into the room, scowling when he couldn't manage to slip in without the door creaking another couple of inches wider, before padding over to me.

"Mom says dinner will be ready soon," he relayed. His expression had turned dull and distantly irritated, reminding me a little of Bakugo.

"Thanks," I said, chuckling more over my own random thought than anything else. The fact that I seemed even remotely amused apparently added to Keisuke's humbug.

"What are you laughing about?" he questioned. At first it seemed innocent enough, but then his expression twisted and drew even darker – almost aggressive. "Why are you laughing at me?"

My good mood sobered almost instantly. Instead, I leaned forward to poke Keisuke between the eyes.

"Hey," I chastised, "what's got you so snappy?"

Keisuke scoffed and swatted at my hand, yet he stepped closer. I likewise switched to running my fingers through his onyx bangs.

"All of the other kids laugh at me," he grumbled. His eyes, amber orbs that were only a shade darker than mine, were narrowed towards the floor. "They make fun of me 'cuz I haven't gotten my Quirk yet."

I could only keep brushing Keisuke's bangs back, not knowing what to say right away. Keisuke had turned five a couple of months before. My parents had called him a "gift" but I knew he'd actually been an unplanned mistake. Not that it made him any less loved or valued by any of us, obviously. My parents just hadn't been ready for any more kids after me and didn't have a whole lot of time or energy to devote to Keisuke. And since he and I had nearly a ten year age gap between us, our relationship wasn't anything like typical, feuding siblings.

I knew I had to respond somehow, so I put on a smile. "I got my Quirk late, too. We're just a family of late bloomers. Don't worry too much about it."

Keisuke kept glaring at the ground for a while but eventually his eyes drifted up to meet mine. As tough as he tried to show himself, there was a clear vulnerability behind his front. "But what if I _never_ get my Quirk?"

"Then you don't get a Quirk."

It was an impulsive quip on my part, one that Keisuke shot me a simper for, but I only continued to smile.

"It doesn't matter if you have a Quirk or not, really," I told him. "Everyone takes them so seriously, but Quirks are all different. Some people can glitter and others are more like Yetis than humans. When Quirks have such a huge range anyway, is not having one actually so bad? It would just make you equally as different as anyone else."

Keisuke's expression was flat, and I wondered if I'd gotten through to him. Maybe I didn't explain my point that well?

"You didn't explain that very well at all," Keisuke spat. Despite his bluntness, I couldn't help but choke on a laugh.

"Are you sure you're not psychic?" I didn't give Keisuke much of a chance to keep glowering before I straightened up and fixed him with a more serious look. "Keisuke, it might seem like everyone is obsessed with Quirks now, but when you look at it in the grand scheme of things it barely matters at all. It wouldn't make you any less of a person. Besides…" I tilted my head to the side in mock thought, "…Don't you want to be a racecar driver when you grow up? You can't even _use_ a Quirk if you do that. So it _really_ doesn't matter."

It was a little hard to tell if Keisuke was actually comforted or still caught up in his own head. By then he was practically in my lap, though, which was as good of a sign as any.

"That's real easy for you to say," Keisuke ground out. I began scratching the back of his head, and he leaned forward to give me more access. "You have a Quirk and it's not lame _or_ weird."

My lips twisted. "I'm sorry that I don't suck." Keisuke moved to pinch me, but he didn't do it hard enough to really hurt. "Honestly, though, don't worry so much. There's more time for your Quirk to show up. And if it doesn't, we'll just figure out what to do from there."

Keisuke was quiet, and I still wasn't sure if I'd gained any ground with him.

He sighed after a few seconds. "Yeah, sure."

I wasn't exactly happy with his feedback but decided not to keep pushing it. There wasn't any point in _me_ worrying either. I needed to take my own advice.

"Come on," I said, nudging Keisuke back so that I could stand. "Let's go help set the table."

Keisuke didn't have an option, because I swooped down and heaved him over my shoulder.

"Hey! You cow, put me down!"

"I'm the cow? You weigh a ton. Maybe you should just _skip_ dinner today."

"**Jerk!**"

* * *

Bakugo sat two seats over from me in class. Same row.

I knew the class layout but I'd never had a reason to consider how close he was before.

Even though Bakugo tended to slouch around during his down time, his posture was close to supreme during lectures. His attention never wavered. He copied notes diligently. His expression was stuck in a scowl when he concentrated, just like it was when he _wasn't_ concentrating, but that didn't take too much away from the picture.

It was weird that I'd never noticed how handsome he really was. Even with his face pinched Bakugo's features were striking. His eyes, a smoldering crimson; strong jaw and small nose; blonde spikes in a deliberate, careless disarray; a prominent Adam's apple bobbing every so often when he swallowed …

"Katsumi, do you want to try to repeat that last bit I just said?"

I blinked back into focus, slowly turning to the front of the room. Sensei was regarding me dryly. In response I could only flush and shake my head, sinking down to clasp my hands under my desk and tuck in my chin.

It was embarrassing, but not humiliating. At least he hadn't called me out for ogling Bakugo specifically. Only a few people had even glanced over – Bakugo was entirely oblivious.

Still, crushes could be so troublesome.

* * *

"Hey, Luka."

Captain called me after archery practice that afternoon. She was in the same year as me, a girl named Aina Hada, but we'd never actually been in the same class. She was more of the pretty/popular type, which didn't exactly fit my narrative.

So that fact that she was calling me by my first name seemed a little off.

I approached Aina with a tense brow, still carrying my bow and wishing I was free to go back with the other girls to take my gear off and clean up. I'd counted on my expression being enough of a reaction for Aina to tell me what she needed, but the as soon as the range cleared out she seemed to grow more uncharacteristically sheepish, avoiding my eye and crossing her arms.

"I'll be blunt about this," Aina told me once the gym was empty, still staring off. My heart plummeted – was I getting cut from the team? What had I done?! "…I've decided to apply to U.A."

I didn't react at first. My brain was trying to process and catch up after the initial panic.

"Okay," I said, deliberately drawing the word out. "But what did you want to talk to me about?"

Aina huffed and shifted her stance. "To be honest, I'm nervous about the entrance exam. The written portion shouldn't be difficult for me, but there's a practical…"

I could only wait for Aina to continue, because I really had no idea where she was going with her spiel.

"It's still a long way off," Aina went on, "so I wanted to ask if you'd train with me. And come with me."

The delay between her confession and my reaction felt like it could have been ten years.

"You…want me to apply to U.A. with you? To go to the practical exam with you?" Aina's stern stare and firm nod were my answer. "…_**Why?**_"

How much did applying to U.A. even cost? How much did _attending_ U.A. even cost? My family could never afford it – especially when I didn't have any intention of going into the Hero field in the first place.

So why the hell would apply to the top Hero school in the country?

With someone I barely knew?

There was literally no logic to it.

Aina's Quirk had to do with enhanced senses; I could have sworn my thoughts were loud enough for her to hear.

"It's because I know you're not aiming to be a Hero," she confessed stiffly. "I know you would never apply otherwise and – not to be harsh – but it's pretty impossible that you'd get in without a Hero's drive."

I did my best to portray with my face that Aina wasn't helping her cause at all. I was only more confused.

"Still, for someone without a Hero's drive," Aina went on, "you're more dedicated to training than anyone else. You have to know you're at the top of the team, for one. I think you'll challenge me without being real competition, you know?"

I really didn't know, not right away. The first thing that did make sense to me was that it was kind of a back-handed compliment, wasn't' it?

But Aina's stare was expectant, and so much surer than any part of me felt.

"I already worked it out with my parents. I'm taking a cut in my allowance next semester to help cover your entrance fee. Actually," Aina looked to the side and smirked, "I sold them some sob story about how you're from a scumbag family that doesn't believe in your dreams of becoming a Hero. Hope you don't mind." Once Aina got over her sardonic pride she faced me again, her gaze going steely. "And for what it's worth, I would honestly feel better with you being at my side. That's why I singled you out and asked."

If anything, I was more dumbfounded than ever. The further the conversation went the more lost and fuzzy I felt. I'd barely even spoken directly with Aina, within the club or otherwise. Where was all of this in-depth analysis coming from?

In the end, there wasn't a whole lot that I could do. At best I maybe could have asked to think about it. But at the time, in the moment, the only thing I could do was agree.

* * *

The months after I'd accepted Aina's proposal passed by in a whirlwind. We ran drills and exercises during archery practice with the rest of the team but stayed late or met up separately for extra training. At first Aina had wanted to focus on building up strength. I wasn't sure where she got her knowledge from, but she had me doing some lifts and moves that made me question who the hell every came up with them, yet often left me feeling like a crippled old granny afterwards. Life got a lot more painful.

I think Aina thought it was funny in the beginning. She was so determined and focused, pushing to do her best, so I understood how comparing herself to me could help secure her own confidence. When we first started out I did what was expected of me and not much more, suffering and miserable during every second. But as time went on, I started to catch her fire. The friendly rivalry we'd developed made us start to one-up each other: see who could do more reps, use more weigh, maintain the steadiest pace and tightest form.

Cardio went a little differently. I'd always hated running and anything that incorporated it. Aina definitely had me trumped on stamina, but at least I improved enough to be able to read some of the print on the back of her shirt on the track. That was usually what I focused on to keep distracted from the work-out itself. _'What did Aina's shirt say today?'_

I hadn't told my family about the arrangement, so the sudden increase in my physicality must have seemed curious to them. They never mentioned it, but my mom did suddenly start buying a lot more protein bars and making sure I always carried a few with me.

Honestly, even though I didn't have much of a real end game that I was striving towards, I had to admit that I felt better than ever about myself by the time the U.A entrance exam came.

The academy was enormous. It didn't seem like there were too many kids there until we actually entered the orientation room – which was more like the crowd at a One Ok Rock stadium.

Seats were assigned, so Aina and I climbed up way too many steps until we found our spots. It only sprung a mild sort of surprise to see Midoriya there, but Bakugo seated on his other side sent an electric jolt through me.

I knew Bakugo would be applying to U.A., but what were the odds we'd end up practically side-by-side? It was like fate.

"Hey, Midoriya," I said, maybe more loud than I needed to. I reached out to Aina for support, gripping her sleeve. I could very easily imagine the skeptical look she was sending me but equally as easily ignored it. "What are the odds we'd be sitting together, huh?"

Midoriya's reaction was at least thrice as over-the-top as mine. "Katsumi-c-chan! I had no idea… you're applying to U.A. too?!"

I only nodded. It was pretty complicated, and I didn't care to explain it right then.

Before Aina could make a move I trotted over to sit beside Midoriya – it was the closest spot to Bakugo – and plopped down, hoping that I seemed worriless.

(Being a Midoriya away from Bakugo was almost as close to Bakugo as I'd ever been.)

"Yeah," I said. "We didn't want to bring a bunch of hype to it, but here we are."

Midoriya fluttered his eyes, noticing Aina as she settled into the seat on my left. "Oh, you're Hada-san, right? You can amplify your basic human senses at any given time, giving you a distinct advantage during specific circumstances..."

Aina side-eyed Midoriya. "And you're some kind of stalker, then?"

Midoriya was hit by a proverbial bolt of lightening. "No! Not at all!"

The seaweed-haired boy didn't have more time to defend himself, as the main lights suddenly dimmed.

"What's up, U.A. candidates?" an echoing voice filled the stadium. "Thanks for tuning in to me, your school DJ. C'mon and lemme hear ya!"

*Crickets*

The eccentric looking, lanky blonde guy on stage didn't exactly have a commanding presence, so the abruptness of him popping up didn't make the crowds' suspicion surprising.

"Keepin' it mellow, huh? That's fine, we'll skip to the main show. Let's talk about how this practical exam is gonna go down, okay? _Are you read-ayye? Yeah!_"

Silence.

Midoriya was mumbling next to me: apparently the obnoxious guy in front was "President Mic: Voice Hero". But it seemed like the greatest thing tied to his name was a radio show.

"Like your applications said, today you rockin' boys and girls will be out there conducting ten minute mock battles in super hip urban settings. Guard your loins, my friends. Once I drop the mic here you'll all be heading to your specified battle centers. Sound good? Okay!"

More silence.

"I see," Bakugo said, his voice throaty. I was immediately at full attention. "They're splitting us up so we can't work with any of our friends."

Midoriya was solemn. "Yeah, you're right. Our examinee numbers are one after the other, but we're assigned to different battle centers."

There was a part of me that was more wrapped up in the fact that Bakugo had been talking so nearby, and maybe even just called us _friends, _than the part of me that cared about the exam in any capacity. But it didn't take long for the situation to click, and then all that I could think of was Aina.

The only reason she'd brought me along was so that we could support each other during the practical. Now we wouldn't even be testing together.

'_Three types of faux villains… Point based on difficulty… Goal is to use your Quirk to shred the foes…' _

The rest of the details passed in a bit of a blur. From the corner of my eye, I mostly tried to gage how Aina was holding up. It shouldn't have been that big of a deal, right? We'd been training together for so long that she should have enough confidence in herself with or without me. We'd been to plenty of archery tournaments so it wasn't like she wasn't used to being under pressure either. She was the _captain_, after all.

All too soon, we were leaving the orientation and heading towards our battle centers.

"It's just like a video game," I told Aina before we split up. "Try not to overthink it. Just have fun."

I knew the advice was a lot easier said than done. Aina didn't seem all that settled, but she put on a brave face.

Still, for someone like me who wasn't betting my future on passing, it was actually pretty exciting to be standing in front of Battle Center C.

It _was_ just like a video game, and nothing more.

* * *

**(A/N)**

**I'm immediately breaking my "I don't like author's notes" thing. Boo~**

**I just wanted to say I wrestled with this chapter: I KNOW it's rushed, and can't tweak it enough for my liking. But like I said, this will be more of a FUTURE! fic overall, so I really don't want to get stuck spending a lot of time in these origin chapters. I'm just really, really hoping the fast pace won't take away from the whole story...**


	5. Chapter Four

Ten minutes was _not_ a lot of time.

As soon as the gates opened everyone — at least fifty kids — lurched forward and began their search for villains. I guessed there wasn't much of a better way to gage incoming potential, considering the sheer number of students who applied to U.A., but why the ten minute limit? It just made people frantic. So maybe that was the point?

Okay. Stay calm.

I sprinted into the Battle Center, but not quite as hurried as everyone else. It's not like any of us could cover a ton of ground within the given time restriction. How many villains were going to be hanging around? Would they raise the stakes even more and only bring a few in, or overwhelm us?

The villains didn't end up being hard to find: getting to them was the issue. With so many kids running around and the wide array of Quirks in such close vicinity, most of the robots were being taken down as soon as I could pin them as the targets. Not only that, but streets were getting torn _up_ and buildings torn _down_ left and right, all caught in the crossfire.

'_Jeez, destructive much?'_

Dodging debris became one of the main obstacles. I swerved into an empty alleyway, coughing on dust that had taken over the street after a particularly exuberant explosion. My eyes started to sting as I poked my head around the corner, making an attempt to spot any more robots that might have been using the haze as cover. It took a few seconds – valuable seconds that most of the other kids hadn't bothered wasting before moving on – but then I noticed a shadow. A _huge_ shadow making its way in my direction.

As big as that thing was, it had to have been worth a killer amount of points.

My body moved before I had the chance to think – almost on its own. I wished I'd thought to bring my bow, if that would have even been allowed, just to have some type of weapon. The best I could think to do was try to focus energy into my foot or my fist. It was something I'd been playing around with for years. Getting the particles to move faster around a particular body part by releasing my internal energy could create a sort of force-field. It was just hard for me to control still, and I'd probably only have a few shots before I'd be out of expendable calories.

Between the size of the villain and my newfound drive to conquer, the distance was closing pretty quickly. I was so focused on planning my attack that the one other kid ahead didn't stand out to me right away. I did notice him while I closed in; I only had a few nanoseconds to analyze him.

He was just standing there, staring up at the behemoth enemy. His face didn't give too much away, really, but somehow I read his expression as being sort of crippled, like he'd given up. I couldn't tell if he was angry or devastated, or maybe both. Was he afraid? Why wasn't he moving?

It hit me like a jolt of lightning. I could have been wrong, but only one thing made sense to me in that moment.

'_He doesn't have a Quirk. He's like Midoriya. This is his dream but there's nothing he can do…'_

The guy was in my path anyway, so I didn't have to change much of my trajectory. I stopped looking at the robot and only kept my eyes on that boy. I reached him sooner than my mind was even working, so my next few steps were all made on the fly, in a rush.

I grabbed his hand first, tugging him forward, but then loosen my grip so that my fingers barely hovered over his.

"I'm giving you energy," I yelled over the rush of wind. "No time to explain. Just aim for a weak spot – the ankle or knee joint – and land a hit there." The most assurance I could give was glancing over my shoulder, shooting a sloppy grin. "You'll pack an extra punch, trust me!"

I let go and jumped away from the guy at one of the last seconds. I didn't even manage to catch his new expression: was he confused? By the time I found my footing and could look over again, he was at least following my direction and throwing his fist into the robot's ankle. His knuckles were glowing gold, I was glad to see.

The hit didn't have a grand reaction at first. But once the robot went to take another step the limb that had been assaulted crumbled, sending gears and metal shards flying. Worse, though, the whole humongous humanoid made a slow decent face-first towards the ground. I had a minimal amount of time to react: ducking down, folding my arms over my head, and doing my best to focus a good chunk of energy towards my back to help deflect any projectiles. At that point I couldn't help much to protect the other guy. I felt bad.

It seemed like it took longer than it actually did for the rubble to clear. As soon as I could make sense of everything around me I stood up again and made my way to the main scene. I was surprised to see a silhouette standing close to where I'd left the other kid. Did that fall look worse than it'd actually been, or did I miss something?

I slowed my jog to a tentative stalk as I got closer. The dirt in the air fell relatively fast. I could see the guy clear enough sooner than I would have guessed. It was the same kid from before, but I could take in more details about him. He was tall with pretty prominent, purple-ish hair. There were bags under his eyes. The stress of the test must have been bothering him for a while.

"Hey," I called out, thinking I at least had the best understanding of the situation as possible. "Sorry for being so abrupt before. But it worked out, right? That bot must have been a heavy hitter. How well do you think you made out with him?"

The guy seemed to be in a daze, staring at his hands. I tried to understand his perspective; for someone without a Quirk, taking out that huge of a villain must have been an astounding feat. He probably needed time for it all to catch up.

As I got closer, the boy's gaze drifted up the remains of the robot. I stopped a few feet away, waiting patiently for him to process everything.

"That was one of the forth types of villains," the guy said. His voice was deep, and equally as apathetic. "That thing was just here as a distraction… worth zero points."

My heart crumbled, even before the reality made its way through my brain. Really — the biggest foe was worth _nothing_? How _the hell_ did that made _any_ sense?

I should have paid more attention during orientation.

The guy's dull eyes wandered over to me, but I tried not to notice. I was scrambling for a response.

"Oh, well…" I didn't have the gall to keep eye contact, staring at the curb and rubbing my shoulder instead, "at least that move worked. Honestly, I've never tried it with anyone before. It could have been a lot worse: you could have completely shattered your arm or something."

The boy didn't look convinced or comforted. His stare on me was intimidating even if it was simultaneously insipid.

Luckily – depending on whom you asked – the tiny time frame we'd been given to prove ourselves was up.

* * *

It took me a while to meet up with Aina, but after a few exchanged texts and some awkward wandering I had her in sight. She came up to me with her head bowed, her hands pushed into the pockets of her jacket, and I didn't have to be a genius to know that she didn't feel great about her performance during the practical.

Despite my instincts I couldn't help but ask, "So, how'd it go?"

Aina never met my eye. She kept her eyes down to the ground, her brow pinched.

"What a stupid test," she grumbled after a beat. "Robots, really? How often do Pro Heroes have to battle robots? Robots aren't criminals – _people_ are criminals."

I could only blink. She had a point. Maybe the practical exam wasn't entirely _practical. _

At the time, I tried to laugh it off. "You couldn't have done worse than me. I didn't get any points. I might have almost killed a kid, actually."

Aina barely seemed to hear me. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that the conversation didn't concern her. I didn't try to engage her again but ushered her towards the gates to head home. Maybe a familiar setting would comfort her.

It was pure coincidence that Bakugo was heading the same way. He was well ahead of Aina and me when I noticed him but was undoubtedly heading for the same station (and train) considering we all lived in relatively close proximity. It took a lot of effort not to drag Aina along faster to make sure that we didn't lose sight of him.

Aina went another way, it turned out. She veered off with a barely-there goodbye once we reached he station, leaving me to stalk Bakugo alone. I felt a little abandoned but got over it pretty quickly.

I was alone with Bakugo.

Well, sort of. Other than the rest of the commuters, I mean.

Bakugo never made any motion that he knew that I was there. His face was stony, like usual, and I figured he was probably going over his performance too. Did he really have anything to worry about? He should have done fine in the test. There was no way he would have failed.

I wanted to talk to him. Maybe I could ask about the exam, just out of obligation, and congratulate him for what had to have been an awesome job. But I never found the right words or worked up enough nerve.

I missed my stop. I stayed until the next platform, when Bakugo stood and made his way out of the car. I followed him out onto the station but paused when he made his way onto the street, undoubtedly towards his house. I could only watch him go. It would definitely be too creepy to keep trailing him past that point.

Once Bakugo was out of sight, I back stepped and found the right train home, my feelings unsettled for a variety of reasons.

* * *

The days after the entrance exam were weird. Aina and I didn't train together anymore, and without her company I felt a little lost. I'd never realized how much of a loner I'd been before our deal until it was off and I was left to my own devices again.

I understood why Aina suddenly kept her distance but I did wish she hadn't made such an extreme switch. It was like the exam hadn't happened at all. She'd picked me to be her partner going in so why wouldn't she trust me in the aftermath? I worried that she honestly thought she'd fell so short during the practical that she _did_ want to forget it had happened. After months of sharing our time and sweat together, did she not ever consider us real friends?

As much as I thought I would have hated extra workouts when they weren't obligatory, the guilt that stuck with me when I started skipping them was worse. I began a regime of my own, somewhat different and less intense than the one Aina had had us following. It wasn't the worst thing, I figured, to make more fitness training a regular habit. It helped to keep me occupied, at least.

I hadn't really been that anxious about getting my exam results back from U.A.; obviously I'd failed. But still, knowing that a letter was coming got me a little jittery. And since my parents still didn't know about me applying to U.A. in the first place I was mostly just paranoid about making sure I got the mail before they did.

It was a week later when my letter came. I'd been grabbing the mail on my way in from school for a while so my mom didn't think much of it anymore. I just hoped she didn't notice how frazzled I was, or how much of a rush I was in to get up to my room.

I kept my door open just enough so that it didn't latch and made for my desk. I'd stuffed the letter from U.A. into my backpack while I was outside so I shuffled through some stray papers until I found it. I was nervous but I didn't know why. Maybe I was afraid of the reality of rejection, even when it was a sure thing.

Either way, I tore the envelope open – pretty messily – and frowned at the disk inside. What the hell?

I turned the envelope upside down so that the disk fell onto my desk. I didn't have too much time to wonder what I was supposed to do. The disk lit up and projected an image of All Might into the air in front of me.

"I am here!" All Might proclaimed in his trademark bellow. Something in his voice and smile seemed strained, though. The yellow suit he donned didn't seem to suit him either. "I am sorry for the wait, but with so much great potential there was also much paperwork to finalize!"

Why was he apologizing? A week wasn't even a long time.

"Young Katsumi," All Might went on, making me stiffen. This thing was actually personalized? "...While you passed the written exam, you received zero combat points in the practical exam. Fortunately, there were other factors." A video, a projection-within-a-projection, popped up beside All Might. It showed me running up to that purple-haired kid and urging him towards the robot. "Actions do speak louder than words, as they say. That's why the practical exam is not based on combat alone! For your actions, you received twenty-five Rescue Points."

I was pretty stunned, and All Might seemed to expect it judging by the way he paused.

"However," All Might continued. His tone took a palpable pitch downward, making my stomach drop with it. "U.A. is a highly competitive school, as you are aware. Despite your performance in the exams, I must reluctantly inform you that you are not an eligible candidate for the Hero Course."

I barely reacted. The entire exchange was still something I wasn't completely processing.

All Might's mood skyrocketed, and his projection sent me a sudden thumbs-up. "But have no fear! You have been accepted as a General Education student. Please remember that General Education students have the opportunity to advance into the Hero Course with hard work, as well as supreme skill and character. After all, you are hearing this from not only the Number One Hero, but also a U.A. graduate, and the newest U.A faculty member! I look forward to following your progress. **PLUS ULTRA!**"

After a prolonged, dazzling grin, the projection of All Might eventually fizzled out and faded. I could only stare down at it the disk it'd come from blankly.

Had that all really just happened?

I was still putting it all together when my mom called me down for dinner. I slid away from my desk and slipped through my half-ajar door. I did my best to get through dinner as normally as possible.

…Despite the fact that I'd just been _accepted as a U.A. student_.

* * *

There was pep in my step when I went into school the next day. I couldn't wait to find Aina and ask about her results. Why were people always saying U.A. was so impossible to get into? If I'd been accepted, even if not as a Hero, how could they have turned Aina away?

I didn't run into Aina until after school. We didn't have practice, but I knew her routine well enough to narrow down the list to where she might be. After a couple of attempts in the locker room and gym, I found her running laps out on the track. She ran the best when she was emotional, I knew.

I tried not to have too much expectation when I made it down to the track and waited for Aina on the sidelines. I sat in the grass, still in clear view, but let her keep running until she decided to talk to me. It took almost twenty minutes, but Aina slowed her pace about a quarter mile away, cooling herself down as she made her way over.

There was a dopey, plastic sort of smile on my face when Aina approached. She didn't make eye contact but she'd obviously approached because she was willing to talk. It was tough to figure out how she was feeling based on her expression: especially considering she was red-faced and out of breath after the workout.

When Aina got close enough she placed her hands on her hips, still huffing and puffing. I didn't say anything, leaving her to break to verbal ice.

Aina let her head roll back. "It was stupid," she said, half in a gasp. "The whole thing. Applying to U.A."

The awkward smile I'd had on dwindled.

"At least I had my back-ups ready," Aina went on, speaking plainly. She finally focused on me, but didn't seem to read any of my inner turmoil. "What about you? Where are you going to high school?"

If I'd had an answer, I would have given it. I clung to an almost desperate source of comfort in that I could give an honest response.

"I don't know. I haven't decide yet."

Aina tittered. "Well, get a move on. There's not much time left. We'll be graduating soon."

Her words were real, in so many ways. There wasn't much time for me to debate. I needed to decide on my future. Who was I going to be?

An average, or a heroic?


	6. Chapter Five

Ketsubutsu Academy wasn't so bad. It's where I ended up going to high school and where I really started to realize how much more my future could have in store for me.

From the start, attending U.A. hadn't made any sense. It would have been paying top-tier tuition just to be a general student. Why place the burden on anyone?

Someone else could take my spot – someone who really needed it.

Being admitted into Ketsubutsu wasn't hard. I had a suspicion that my performance at U.A. had something to do with it. I'd taken the written exam and done well, but I got the feeling there was some inside information being passed around when I got my offer without any practical testing. Then again, I hadn't applied as a Hero Course student so maybe they just hadn't cared about my physical skills.

Ketsubutsu was a good school – a great school really – but it wasn't on the same par as U.A. It was more relaxed, more attainable. We didn't broadcast a sports festival every year to brag about whatever new talent we were training. Ketsubutsu understood the strength in an understatement. We were all-arounders. Underestimated, but more than capable.

Ketsubutsu just felt right. It'd been a little weird when I first started out – I'd felt out of my element – but it didn't take long for the academy to become a home-away-from-home.

I had been plagued with guilt about picking a pretty prestigious school, too. I didn't have a direct aim in where I wanted to end up in life so I could have gone anywhere… to any _public_ school. Even besides the attendance loans, Ketsubutsu was so far away that I had to live in student housing during the week. I was close enough to at least take a train home on weekends, but that was just another expense at the end of the day. Was it selfish of me? It was basically like attending a university early. Could I get away with just skipping college, then?

Money was half of the reason I began wondering if I should pursue some type of Hero-focused field. You couldn't deny there was safety in that: society would always need Heroes, and Heroes all needed managers, side-kicks, and support. I could be a background player. I would be good at that. I could get a secure, safe career. Maybe as a personal assistant to a Pro.

I began my journey at Ketsubutsu as a General Studies student. It was a broad field that allowed me to explore a little bit of everything and figure out where my niche was. I figured, like All Might had said in the hologram, that I could move up or over to wherever I needed to be if I showed the right interest and potential.

The first half of my freshman year was a whirlwind. The class that I'd been placed in, Class 1-3, was sort of a "Hero understudy" course. Most of the other kids still had an obvious drive to chase after Heroism but hadn't quite made the cut. I was one of the few on the opposite end, who had been given a golden ticket to something they'd never wanted and wasn't ready for. Either way, we were all looking for answers, and we needed help.

I'd never had such serious training in my life, Quirk or otherwise. The teachers at Ketsubutsu were professionals (although not quite as well-known as U.A. staff) and were always pushing us close to our limits. I nearly met my breaking point a few times, too. The first time was when the news broke about the USJ Incident, as they called it.

I'd been a wreck about it, even if I couldn't really rationalize why. I'd never found out which class Bakugo was in but he must have been on top, right? In Class 1-A, who were the ones ambushed and attacked by the "League of Villains". The story was all over every news station. Obviously the press couldn't name underage students, but at least there were no serious injuries or casualties reported. That much helped a little, but I was still so anxious and unsettled. Bad things happened all the time, but for something so huge to take place, undoubtedly involving someone I cared about, and for me to be so far away and utterly useless…

It was the USJ Incident that made me want to work harder, and be better, so that I wouldn't have to sit on the sidelines when I had the power to protect people.

As a General Studies student, our Hero Training course was more or less like a gym class. Some of the more serious kids in my class paid for extra tutoring in combat and Quirk Management from seniors and teachers. As for me, I made due with extra training on my own.

I was comfortable with my physical skills. I'd practiced archery since I was seven and dabbled in track/field, so I'd always been mildly athletic and stronger than most girls, to the point where I sometimes wondered if I should tone it down or diet before I got too bulky. It wasn't like I trained like crazy though so that was probably all in my head, right?

Anyway, outside of my Quirk, I usually felt pretty capable. It just sort of sucked that using my Quirk required energy, which meant a lot of eating. I knew it was stupid of me to feel like a hog when I had to shovel down food, but I did always feel a little self-conscious when I thought anyone noticed the huge portions I took in around training. It wasn't the most feminine thing.

The night of the U.A Sports Festival, which was just about the biggest event of the year, I was at home with my family. I was happy, at ease, and maybe a little careless.

"Jeez, Nee-Chan, you ate almost half the food yourself…"

I pouted through a full mouth of dumplings. "Shuh-up, Keisuke."

"Kei-Chan, your sister is working hard at school," our mother chided. "She needs to fuel up."

The statement was innocent enough, and maybe my mom didn't even notice, but the unsaid words left some heaviness in the air. I needed so much energy for my Quirk, while Keisuke's Quirk was still evading him.

I shuffled over to Keisuke and ruffled his hair. "You need to eat to get stronger, and it really helps when the food is so delicious. You did a good job helping Kaa-San cook today."

Keisuke wasn't placated. He endured my fussing with a scowl, not denying me but clearly not taking any comfort. I didn't know what else I could do for him.

We settled in around the TV to watch the Sports Festival. Keisuke, despite his mood, made sure to stick to my side on the couch. Me going away for school must have been a challenge for him, making me both more determined to succeed and more regretful for going away all at once.

The first round was pretty chaotic. My family did their best to keep up and comment, but I half droned them out. Despite so many kids racing forward to make the cut, it was almost too easy for me to pick out Bakugo.

He was leading for the majority of the run, so it wasn't like noticing him was anything special. Still, it felt intimate for me, because my eyes were only on him.

Midoriya was there too, though, which might have been the only thing that could have stolen my attention away from Bakugo.

It was awe-inspiring. Midoriya had played Quirkless for so long, but for what reason? To be the underdog? For the shock factor? He'd never struck me as the type for those theatrics.

My family didn't direct many comments or demand much of me during the games and I had to be thankful. There was way more going on than I would have ever imagined I'd need to process. Despite only knowing two of the students participating personally, those two happened to the most stand-out of the entire event. I'd been prepared to expect Bakugo to be a key player but Midoriya's performance demanded a huge amount of reflection in itself.

I thought back to that day when I'd given Midoriya the career aptitude test. I'd been trying to help, hoping to lead him towards something he was capable of doing that could still make him happy. But I guess it must have been insulting to a powerful guy like him. _Why_ hadn't he ever said he had a Quirk? Why had he made a fool of himself for so long – _or was it that he was making fools of everyone else_?

By the end of the tournament, despite Bakugo securing his win, I was only half able to relish in it. The whole event had been too full of loops that I struggled to make sense of.

Somehow, I went to bed that night not fantasizing about Bakugo, but contemplating everything Midoriya had said and shown for as long as we'd been classmates.

How had that weak, quiet kid from middle school managed to change so drastically? I'd never though that I was looking down on him before but now he seemed so far beyond me, and it definitely put a dent in my self-security.

Why did I feel so pitiful out of nowhere?

How had _Midoriya _made me feel like I was lacking?

* * *

Weeks went by, and even though there was still something nagging in the back of my mind that made me anxious, I had bounced back to relatively normal.

During one of my visits back home, a few girls that I was relatively well acquainted with from middle school added me into a group chat about getting together. I was surprised that they'd decided to include me in particular, but I wasn't about to complain about being thought well of.

The three other girls – Miho, Tami, and Sakurako – had socialized with me often enough. They'd been slightly more popular though so I was a little stiff at first while easing my way in. It pretty quickly became a natural, casual hang-out, though.

We ended up at a local diner-style restaurant at an odd hour between lunch and dinner. Miho and Sakurako opted to share a shake and some fries, while Tami went off the menu to order a very bland sounding salad.

I was the only one to get a full meal, but I did exchange the fries for a vegetable so doesn't that count? It was still healthier than a shake and fries, anyway.

The other girls chattered about school, since they'd all opted for the local public high. I felt like some of their comments were baiting for me to give input on Ketsubutsu, but I honestly didn't have much to tell.

I'd zoned out a little until Tami cut Sakurako's story off with a hissed inhale.

"Wait, don't look now, but is that Katsuki Bakugo a few booths over?"

She was staring behind me, of course, so I could only stiffen and hang on edge to hear more.

Miho hummed, craning her neck around me. "Maybe, I'm not sure. I don't think I'd be able to tell unless he starts yelling, but it does look like him."

"He won first place at the U.A. Sports Festival," Sakurako supplied unnecessarily. "Katsumi, weren't you in the same class as him?"

My body went numb. A lopsided smile started to form on my face but the action felt detached from the rest of me.

"Yeah, we were," I answered before chancing a gulp. "Is it safe for me to look and make sure it's him?"

After dual nods from Tami and Miho, I shifted myself to get a steady glance behind me.

It didn't take much more than a second for me to pin him. It was absolutely Bakugo. How hadn't I noticed before? Did I still black-out his dramatics out of habit? There was no way you could miss his voice.

I couldn't make out what he was saying, but he sat up to start whacking the other boy he was with over the head with a text book.

"Jeeze!" Sakurako whined, sinking into her seat beside me, "I knew he was violent but to do something like that in public…"

"He's scary," Miho agreed. She and Tami were both similarly lowering their bodies until they were lying flat against the table with only half of their faces peering out. He eyes suddenly flashed to me. "Katsumi, do you know him pretty well? Could you get us autographs?"

Tami let out a tiny squeal from beside Miho. I felt like a doll, unable to react until Miho ushered Sakurako over to their side of the booth so that I'd have room to slide out. With the path cleared ahead of me, I couldn't think of any excuse to deny their request. And even if I could have, would I really forgive myself if Bakugo was right there, right then, and I wimped out on trying to talk to him?

"Okay, let me see..."

I couldn't feel my legs when I slid out of the booth and found my feet. The walk over the Bakugo was hazy. I was panicking but did all that I could to block it out. I was doing this for my friends, but also for me.

Bakugo to showing up in the same restaurant, at the same time – wasn't that like fate?

_It was totally fate_.

I came up to the boys' table and stilled, clasping my hands in front of me. Bakugo didn't notice me at all but his friend did right away, cocking his head curiously.

"Hey," the red-haired one greeted, sending me a friendly but tentative smile. "Did you need something?"

I resisted the urge to be too obvious – my first instinct was to rub my toe into the ground and stutter like an anime character – and instead sent the red-haired boy a grin, doing my best to ignore Bakugo (even though I was very more than well aware that he was _right there_.)

"Hi," I said as casually as I could. "I don't mean to be weird but I noticed you guys and just wanted to say you did a great job at the Sports Festival." I didn't fully register the red-haired boy's reaction because I was too focused on trying _not to focus on_ Bakugo. Stupidly, I ended up bowing. "Congratulations. You were both really impressive."

I registered that the red-haired boy was taking it well; he started rubbing his neck and saying something modest. Bakugo was more commanding, though, when he locked his eyes on mine.

"Who the hell are you?" Bakugo snapped. His blood-colored eyes were narrowed and nearly glowing. "Just get lost. We have serious work to do, and you're a waste of time."

His words should have hurt more. They did send a shock of static through me, but I was probably too pumped up on adrenaline to really take anything to heart. I could only blink as I straightened up, my lips locked in a smile like I was some plastic bimbo.

"Bakugo, man," the red-haired one groaned. He shot Bakugo an admonishing look. "She's not being rude or anything. Have a little fan flair, huh?"

'_Fan flair'? _

Is that what they thought it was?

"Um, actually," I started, holding myself as tall and steady as possible, "Bakugo and I are old classmates. We went to school together…for eight years." I tilted my head, gazing at Bakugo for any sign of recognition. "We were in the same class for all of middle school."

Bakuko might as well have been staring at a three-day old, moldy shrimp on the floor.

"I don't give a damn," he spat. "So what if you're some extra from back then? You were shit to me before and you're shit to me now. **Get lost**."

Again, his words didn't really sting in the stereotypical way. They hit me and sunk in gradually, weighing me down in slow-motion until I felt like I could have melted into the tiles under my feet.

"Bakugo!" the other guy exclaimed, almost like he was shocked by what his friend had said. A second later he seemed to realize that he shouldn't have been surprised, though, and he abandoned any kind of scolding to turn back to me. His expression morphed into the same gentle, genial look he'd given before. "Sorry about him. Bakugo doesn't work well with others, but I guess you already knew that since you grew up with him." Bakugo's ears started smoking on the other side of the booth, but the boy paid no mind. "Hey, I like your hair, by the way. I dyed mine to match Crimson Riot but yours must be natural, right? I'm a little jealous."

The conversation had taken so many turns that it took me a second to catch up. When I did, I couldn't help but heat up a little and play with the ends of my hair. It was closer to maroon than the vibrant shade of the red-haired boy's. He must have been trying to make me feel better with the compliment, right?

When I actually got a good look at him, I did remember him from the Sports Festival. He was in Class 1-A too. His name was totally lost to me but he was the kid with the hardening Quirk who fought until both he and his opponent passed out. He really had done a great job, and he was so nice to boot.

I smiled and made sure I paid the red-haired boy his due attention. "Thanks, but I can't really take credit for something I inherited. You must be really dedicated to dye yours in honor of your favorite Hero."

"Yeah, I really look up to him—"

"STOP CHATTING AND GET BACK TO WORK, SHITTY HAIR! IF YOU DON'T START UNDERSTANDING THIS STUFF I'LL BLOW YOU TO BITS!"

Despite myself I cowered back and brought my arms up in front of my chest. I guess I really hadn't had a whole lot of experience dealing with Bakugo up-close. He_ could_ be awfully intimidating.

"Thanks for coming over," Bakugo's study-mate said to me. He hadn't turned back to Bakugo but was apparently heading the threat without acknowledging it. "We'll keep working hard, so keep supporting us. We appreciate it!"

I doubted that Bakugo cared at all if I was cheering for him, but I accepted the praise from his friend and took the hint in stride.

"Of course. I'll keep watching out for you both. Good luck."

With one last – and maybe slightly less awkward – bow, I retreated back to my table. The girls had been watching the whole thing, of course, and made sure that I wasn't too shaken up before they'd started teasing me about not getting an autograph. I'd completely forgotten about getting a signature almost as soon as I'd left, to be honest. They weren't all that bothered by it anyway.

I was quiet for the rest of the meal.

We left before Bakugo and his friend did. I glanced over at them when we passed by – all of the girls did. Bakugo's friend offered a simper and a wave. Bakugo didn't offer anything.

* * *

I was accepted into Ketsubutsu Academy as a first year in the General Studies program.

As a second year, I studied at Ketsubutsu Academy as a Support Studies student, specializing in Public Relations.

* * *

**(A/N)**

**I'll forever apologize for rushing through these "origin" chapters, but I just can't help it. This is the last one! Everyone will be big kids next time. :D**


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